From the garden below came the voices of Hazel’s children, Dickie calling in a shrill, sweet treble.
Rosamund gave a sudden smile, and then it died from her eyes in a rush of overwhelming loneliness.
Ludovic’s need was urgent, and he took his advantage.
“Rosamund,” he said entreatingly.
Her gaze did not leave the far line of the horizon, but very slowly, without turning her head, she gave him her hand.
Exeter, June, 1916.
London, June, 1917.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.